There was a parcel of candles in the pantry--as I term it. I had a flint
and steel in my pocket, and followed by the men, I led the way below,
bidding them stand awhile till I obtained a light; and after groping and
feeling about with my hands, I found the paper of candles, lighted one,
and then called to the men. They arrived. I pointed to the jars, saying
in English, there was wine in them; and then to the slung cask of water,
and then to the food on the shelves. They instantly grasped each one of
them a pannikin, and mixed a full draught and swallowed it, with a
strange trembling sigh of relief and delight. They then fell upon the
biscuit and sausage, eating like famished wolves both fists full, and
cramming their mouths. They were not very much more distinguishable by
the feeble light of the candle than on deck; however, I was able to see
they were not blacks. The man who had addressed me was of a deep Chinese
yellow, with lineaments of an African pattern, a wide flat nose, huge
lips, eyes like little shells of polished ebony glued on porcelain. His
hair was the negro’s black wiry wool. He wore a short moustache, the
fibres like the teeth of a comb, and there was a tuft of black wool upon
his chin. Small gold earrings, a greasy old Scotch cap, a shirt
like a dungaree jumper, and loose trousers thrust into a pair
of half Wellingtons, completed the attire of the ugliest, most
villainous-looking creature I had ever set eyes on. His companions were
long-haired, chocolate-browed Portuguese, or Spaniards--_Dagos_ as the
sailors call them; I noticed a small gold crucifix sparkling upon the
mossy breast of one of them. Their feet were naked, indeed their attire
consisted of no more than a pair of duck or canvas breeches, and an open
shirt, and a cap. They continued to feed heartily, and several times
helped themselves to the wine, though before doing so, the yellow-faced
man would regularly point to the jar with a nod, as though asking leave.
“You Englis, sah?” he exclaimed, when he had made an end of eating. I
said yes. “How long you been heär, sah?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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